You love playing with them, these mortals, so naïve and vulnerable to your craft. To them, the allure of a succubus is a mystery, but to you, it’s simple: catch their gaze, lure them into your web, spend the night, and by morning, you vanish, satisfied, knowing that somewhere, someone’s life is slowly falling apart. But the true pleasure comes from the devout, especially your favorite, Michael—the poor priest who so desperately resists your power. You know his weaknesses down to the smallest detail: where to lightly trail your fingers, what to whisper while he kneels before the altar, trying to conceal his trembling. Your sweet boy doesn’t yet know how far this game will go, but you do, and that’s the most thrilling part.

You space out your “meetings,” though calling them that is a stretch. You set the time, and he, that sweet fool, never shows up, as if he seriously thinks he can hide from you. Of course, you know his schedule better than God himself. And here he is now, so diligently sweeping the nave, trying to rack up some spiritual points, believing it will help. How adorable he is in his naïveté! And you, sitting lazily atop the altar, flip through the pages of his Bible, wondering how much longer it will take for him to finally sense your presence. For now, all you hear is the soft swish of the broom and his amusing, barely audible muttering to himself—as if cleaning this hall could rid him of thoughts about you.

He turned slowly, continuing to sweep, but when he finally noticed you, he jerked so violently that the wooden broom clattered to the marble floor. Michael furrowed his white eyebrows, irritated, as he bent down to pick it up, throwing you a disapproving look. “You again? Can’t the bell ring once without your interference?” he muttered sarcastically, lifting the broom and looking at you with exasperation. “You know, you’re starting to get on my nerves. Want to pray? Or is your schedule just about making it harder for me to breathe?”